Let Us Help You With Your Smile

Clifton was down on his luck when he made the decision to jump inside a moving boxcar in Portland, OR. Actually it was two things: the state of being down on his luck, but also the gritty, raw, industrial beauty of the freight train itself, which seemed to him something like an Edward Hopper painting come to life, or maybe a Woody Guthrie song turned into a machine. In any case there was something in the power and squeak of that train that moved Clifton to heave himself into the open side door of a yellow wooden car with bales of hay stacked neatly along the sides. It was an archetypal boxcar for a career 21st century hobo.

Yes, Clifton was a career hobo, but one with a credit card leftover from a previous life, a card linked to an account with just enough funds to survive at the most rudimentary level. By his calculations he had enough savings to cover two cups of coffee a day for twenty-seven years. Since coffee was the main staple of his diet, the problem of food was more or less solved.

Another piece of his decision was the memory of a particular intersection in Salinas, CA. It was a busy intersection, and strangely mesmerizing to stare at - a lot like gazing at a stream or a river. He remembered that by staring at the flow of traffic there, everything else in the world was put in perspective, because everything else in the world was at some level linked to the flow of that traffic. It was very Zen. He made a mental note: if all else fails, there was always the intersection.

It reminded him of another intersection in Phoenix, AZ, but the Salinas one was better - not nearly as big, but just big enough to convey the force of the flow of life itself.

He was steeped in these thoughts when a voice came out of the hay bales, a fellow hobo. "Smile man, smile! We're going places. Don't look so fucking grim."

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It was true, Clifton was outwardly humorless, and he had a mouth that was inclined to remain shut. It wasn't that he didn't have joy or smiles in his heart, but rather that his mouth was constructed in such a way that smiling didn't come naturally. He had good features but often looked disturbed. As a hobo he felt that he had the right to look disturbed. He wasn't running for public office and he wasn't a matinee idol, so why the hell should he smile? Even so, it weighed on him at times that his demeanor might have an adverse effect on his fellow humans, and this thought made him even more humorless.

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As the train was passing through Salinas the next day he heaved himself out of the boxcar. He landed face down in the dirt and actually liked the feeling: the sting of impact made him feel alive.

As he walked north on Main Street he could see the tall eucalyptus trees  in the distance, the ones next to the rodeo grounds - more or less his destination. Once he got past the gas stations and bail bonds stores, he could smell the eucalyptus trees, and this sensation filled him with something resembling happiness.

Just beyond the trees and the rodeo grounds was a shopping center right at the busy intersection. Like a pilgrim arriving in Mecca, Clifton reached his destination: a concrete curb on the side of a 99-cent store that, when sitting on it, looked directly out onto the intersection. It was still there, exactly as he had left it. It was still vacant. No one except him seemed to know about this perch or its special power. Clearly the Universe had been reserving it for him.

Clifton perched and Clifton stared. There were trees, concrete, and a few empty shopping carts. There was a steady flow of traffic. It was transcendent.

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Across the street was a Starbucks. Every day, twice a day, Clifton walked over to get a coffee. He always got a plain coffee with lots of cream. Never sugar - sugar was a distraction from the serious business of staring at traffic.

He drank his coffee with incredible, heroic slowness. He would take a small sip and let the bitter fluid linger on his tongue, all the while staring at the cars and trucks as they barreled through the intersection or waited at the light. Clear skies or gray, this is how he passed his days, car after car, coffee after coffee.

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One day he was surprised to see the same hobo he shared the boxcar with. The hobo walked by and said "You man, YOU again? Don't you ever smile?" After which the hobo lit a cigarette and walked away.

It was a pleasant, sunny day and after the hobo walked away Clifton saw a newspaper flapping in the wind nearby, and with each flap he saw an advertisement with the words "Let Us Help You With Your Smile". This piqued his curiosity so he picked the paper up.

It was an ad for a local dentist, a Doctor Tran, and as Clifton looked closer at the ad he saw the address and realized that it was right across the street. In fact, it was right near the Starbucks that he walked to twice a day.

He tore the ad out of the paper and decided to check the place out after he got his afternoon coffee.

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The coffee and the service there were consistently decent. He remembered once passing through the San Jose bus station where the service had been excellent but the coffee weak and undrinkable. Then there were other places where the service was atrociously bad but the coffee surprisingly good. Such is life.

Instead of returning to his perch, he had his coffee at the shop, so as to visit the dentist afterwards. It was warm and sunny that day, so he sat on the patio.

Afterwards, Clifton entered the dentist's office and was greeted by a receptionist. "Hello" he said, holding up the ad from the newspaper. "I need help with my smile".

"Please have a seat" the receptionist replied. "Dr. Tran will be with you shortly".

Clifton sat down and picked up a copy of Sunset magazine, gazing at the photos to the sound of the electric waterfall display, flanked on either side by philodendrons. Were they real or artificial philodendrons, he wondered. Before he had time to check, a voice addressed him.

"How do you do?" It was Dr. Tran. "Please, follow me", he said with a strong Vietnamese accent. The doctor had a lean build and a very kind face, a face that looked as though it might burst out laughing at any moment. His lighthearted demeanor immediately put Clifton at ease.

"Sit down, sit down" Dr. Tran said when they entered his office. "Let me see. You have good features, just no smile." He examined Clifton's facial muscles with his hands. "Try, if you can, to stretch these muscles" he said, placing a finger on either side of Clifton's mouth. "Try to pull these muscles back".

As Clifton did his best to pull the muscles back, the doctor slipped out for what must have been at least three minutes. When he returned, he was wearing a yellow clown suit. He was also holding four oranges.

"Ok let's give this a try" the doctor said as he attempted to juggle the four oranges. It didn't take long for one of them to fly out of control and knock over a container of dental tools, which spilled off the counter and onto the floor.

"Oh, aren't I a clumsy clown" said the doctor, as he kept on trying to juggle the oranges with comic ineptness. One landed in the sink, while another burst open on the floor. Clifton noticed a smirk involuntarily growing on his face.

The doctor slipped out again for about three minutes, and this time he returned wearing a full-body bird costume. It was completely over the top with oversized feathers and plumes that may have belonged to a peacock. The doctor starting swaying, shaking maracas  and singing "I am Chiquita banana and I'm back to say-ay... I am the TOP banana..." He then added, in a mock Groucho Marx accent, "What's the matter, don't you like my Carmen Miranda imitation??" And with feigned anger he pushed more dental instruments off the counter onto the floor. Then he opened the cabinets and began throwing latex gloves and cotton balls into the air.

At this point Clifton couldn't take it any longer. He burst out laughing with the largest, most involuntary burst of laughter he had experienced in years. And he kept on laughing so hard that his eyes started watering. He laughed for what seemed to be an eternity, and he laughed so hard that it started to hurt.

"Thanks doc" said Clifton as he finally stood up and patted Dr. Tran's back feathers. "I needed that".

"Ah, I see you smiling!" beamed the doctor. "You are a good patient. Come back any time."

"Thanks doc" Clifton said again as he strolled out of the office.

In this way, Clifton was able to return to his perch and gaze at traffic with a slight smile on his face.

- Copyright 2018 by P.T. Gachot